100 Days of Ash
by DKLC
Summary: Being assigned to the SSV Normandy is a dream come true for Chief Ashley Williams. A scary dream. Thrust into a race against time, Ashley must conquer her doubts and learn that she is "good enough", with a little bit of help from a certain Commander... FemShep/Ashley pairing covering Mass Effect 1. Rated T for language and adult themes, subject to change.
1. Day 1

**__****_Rated T for language and adult themes. Will switch to M in later chapters._**

**_A/N: I have only recently discovered the awesome possibilities of a FemShepley romance, and there's just not enough of it on here. This is slightly AU, as it features a bisexual Ashley Williams. _****_It will be focused on the behind-the-scenes moments that take place outside of the canon dialogue scenes in Mass Effect 1_****_. Enjoy._**

**_Thank you to the biggest Ashley fanboy I know, Hattu, for pre-reading this for me._**

**_***** Bioware owns everything. Especially my soul. *****_**

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**Chapter 1**

**Day 1**

**"I… have to admit. I was a little worried when I saw I was being assigned to the Normandy. It's nice when someone makes you feel welcome."**

To say that Chief Ashley Williams' day had been long and arduous would be an understatement. Twenty four hours ago, she had been scouting with her small ground team, Dog Squad, on the colony of Eden Prime. A mere day later, she had watched them all wiped out by a geth attack, had witnessed human civilians being morphed into what she could best describe as space zombies, and had been reassigned to the best ship in the human fleet. The day's fortunes had fluctuated so wildly that it had been all she could do just to saddle up and survive.

Being aboard the Normandy felt wrong, like wearing a set of armour that's a size too small. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had been slipped into somebody else's life. Assignments like this just didn't get given to a member of the Williams family. Ashley was secretly waiting for the other shoe to drop, for some snarky CO to come bustling out of nowhere to tell her that she didn't belong, because she definitely didn't feel like she did.

Captain Anderson had been nice enough, but busy running a warship. Lieutenant Alenko had been the most friendly and willing to give her the time of day, but he'd retired to his bunk hours ago with one of his biotic migraines. The only other person Ashley could safely claim to be acquainted with was Commander Shepard, but after her 15+ hours of rack-time during her 'post prothean beacon meltdown', she had been too busy squaring away her duties to offer her new marine anything other than a few brief words of welcome.

Ash sauntered aimlessly into the mess-hall, faintly guided by her empty stomach responding to the scent of the evening meal. She frowned slightly as she felt all the blank stares of strangers upon her. It annoyed her that at 25 years of age, she had suddenly reverted back to feeling like she was 'the new girl' back in high-school. She headed to the buffet set up in the galley and quickly grabbed a plate, looking at the options. It all looked like varren crap to her, so she grabbed the closest thing to a balanced looking meal that she could see; a slimy looking meat stew with a few discoloured vegetables floating around in it. The Alliance was known for many things… fine dining not being one of them. She turned around hesitantly, dreading playing the 'where will I sit?' game.

"Hey, Williams! Pull up a seat," Commander Shepard called across the room and gestured to the chair opposite her on the long table.

Ashley looked at the Commander gratefully and finished filling her plate with the congealed sludge that was otherwise known as her dinner. The Commander sat on the eight-person table alone, while the rest of the crew seemed to be actively avoiding her. They held soft, murmured conversations, punctuated at times by gentle sobs. Grief. They were grieving the devastating loss of a comrade. Jenkins; the baby of the ship, 20 years old and fresh out of the academy, or so Ashley had heard.

Ashley suddenly felt a wave of guilt. Of course nobody was going out of their way to be inclusive. She was the very personification of what they had lost down on Eden Prime. She had taken the young marine's spot on the crew. She would probably end up taking over his duties as well. Shit, she'd even get stuck with his empty bunk, knowing her luck. If anybody should understand the pain of losing a fellow soldier, it should be her.

She moved her sore, exhausted body back across the mess and slotted into the seat opposite the Commander, who welcomed her with a tight-lipped smile.

"How're you settling in, Williams?"

Ashley winced as she kept her fork poised in mid-air, her stomach rumbling a protest. It had been 12… maybe 13 hours since she'd last eaten, her shock and grief at losing her unit making her numb to even her most basic biological needs. But now that she was sitting in front of food, surrounded by the sounds of open-mouthed chewing and cutlery scraping metal plates, the empty pit of her stomach begged to be filled. Even though the meal looked barely fit for human consumption, it had a decent aroma, and it took every ounce of her remaining strength not to tell the Commander to shut her damn pie-hole while Ash unceremoniously wolfed down her meal.

"Pretty good, thanks Commander," Ashley answered, meeting Shepard's expectant gaze and attempting something that she hoped at least resembled a smile.

Shepard gave the marine a nod and shifted in her seat, giving Ashley a quick once over. Shepard was an excellent judge of people, and was able to gauge the quality of someone's character almost immediately. Williams struck her as a great soldier. Tough as hell, brave, and brazen. She had to be, to have survived what happened down on that planet. Ashley seemed a little bit untamed, probably not appropriate for leadership anytime soon, but overall she was a good, honest marine. She would make a fine edition to the Normandy's crew, despite the unfortunate series of events that had led to her appointment.

It was nice to have a new face aboard the ship. Especially someone who wasn't too scared to talk to her Commander. In the short amount of time Shepard had been onboard the Normandy, she'd found that being the Executive Officer was an isolating experience. She was suddenly regretting never having befriended any of her superior officers in the past, opting instead to do what the crew had been doing to her; dodging her at mealtimes, giving her quick, curt answers, suddenly becoming too engrossed in their work to talk whenever she was nearby. The saying 'it's lonely at the top' had never held more weight than it did at that solitary dinner table. It was almost enough to make her rethink any further advancement.

"Once you're done with your meal, I'll assign you to a bunk," Shepard said, poking her fork through a large portion of casserole and putting it in her mouth.

She wasn't entirely sure exactly whose ass it was that needed to be kicked over the fact that this soldier had been aboard the ship for 18 hours without a bed, without any duties, hell, probably without even getting to have a shower to wash the blood of her squad out of her hair. It was technically Shepard's task, yes, but given that her brain had been given a sturdy kick in the sweet spot when she was planet-side, she'd really hoped that someone else would pick up the slack. She liked Captain Anderson, but he was a backseat leader, relaying orders from his office. That could be an effective style of command in the right setting, but on the most advanced stealth warship in the human fleet, the captain needed to have a more hands on approach.

If this was Shepard's command, things would be run differently. She would spend most of the time on the bridge, leading from the front, not sitting on her ass in an office, shuffling datapads. She'd make herself an example, take the time to get to know her crew, let them know she had an open-door policy, and never make anybody feel too intimidated to speak to her. There would be no exclusion, no cliques, no anti-fraternisation bullshit. That was how to run a team.

"Thanks, Commander," Ashley answered, following suit and taking a mouthful of stew. It tasted exactly as shit as it looked. Maybe even shitter. The meat, which she had assumed was beef, was some suspicious, unidentifiable species of animal, one that she would probably be better off never knowing about. The sauce was overly salted, underly spiced, and the vegetables were so overcooked that they turned into a mushy, gelatinous mass as soon as they hit her tongue. She'd never missed her Mom's cooking quite so much as she did at that moment… But it was food, and if it did anything to fill the void in her stomach, it would do.

She frowned as she looked over at Shepard's meal. She didn't normally judge other people's dietary decisions, but this looked decidedly terrible.

"What the hell are you eating? Uh… ma'am."

She gritted her teeth slightly at the slip. After serving with the same unit for a period of time, she'd often get friendly with her fellow soldiers. It had only been two days ago that she'd been at a bar with the 212, dodging Donkey's advances and sharing a few laughs with Pennyloafer. It was easy for her exhausted brain to forget that this was a new squad, a new ship, an entirely different CO. Shepard seemed nice, but fairly 'by the book', if the small amount of time Ashley had actually seen her conscious was anything to go by. A slip up like that could get her slapped with an insubordination charge in a minute flat, if Shepard decided to be an asshole.

To Ashley's surprise and relief, Shepard looked down at her plate and breathed out a laugh. "It's tofu and bean casserole. Why? Would you like some?"

Ashley screwed up her nose, and shook her head. "No thanks. That's all yours, ma'am."

Shepard gave her a small grin and quickly popped another forkful into her mouth. "Suit yourself. If you had any idea what you were eating right now, you'd probably convert to vegetarianism too."

"I won't ask, you don't tell," Ashley said with a smirk as she took another mouthful.

The crisis averted, Ashley had at least learnt that her new Executive Officer wasn't a complete hard-ass, which made for a welcome change of pace from her last few postings. She was actually surprised the woman sitting in front of her was considered command material at all. Shepard was short and slim, with chin length brown hair. Pretty, in a delicate sort of a way, although not really to Ashley's tastes. She preferred her women tall, blonde and busty. She hadn't really had the time to stand by and admire the Commander's skills in battle while she was planet-side - trying not to get shot in the head by geth or mauled alive by husks had taken precedence - but she'd heard that Commander Shepard was some sort of kick-ass vanguard. If Alenko's crippling headaches were anything to go by, Ashley would just as soon not put her life in the hands of an unpredictable biotic, but she wasn't high enough in the chain of command to make that kind of decision. Still, if Shepard hadn't arrived when she did, the flashlight heads would've dragged Ashley to the dragon's teeth to be huskified with the rest of her squad. Shepard deserved Ashley's respect.

They fell into silence as they ate their meals. The sort of silence that would be comfortable between people that had been friends for months, but was uncomfortable between almost strangers. Ashley was content with it, wanting to just finish her meal, have a shower and get the hell to bed. Shepard, however, felt compelled to speak, looking up twice, even going as far as to open her mouth to say something - _anything, _just to break the quiet tension. But her mind was too filled with the macabre prothean vision to think of anything even resembling dinner conversation, so she stayed silent.

Taking pity on the Commander, who seemed to be squirming with discomfort at the extended silence, Ashley swallowed a big mouthful and spoke up. "So… we're heading to the Citadel?"

Shepard met her gaze with a relieved glance. "That's right. ETA is 22 hours."

Ashley nodded and stared back down at her food. Shepard eyed the Chief off with intelligent blue eyes. The young soldier suddenly looked exhausted and drained. It had been a rough day for her, and the apparent lack of a welcome she'd received aboard the Normandy hadn't helped things. In her brain, Shepard rattled off the list of priorities she would have if she'd spent the day watching her squad get torn to shreds. Food, shower, clothes, bed. Simple. And Williams seemed simple. In a good way. Clean cut, blunt, skilled. No frills, no curtsies, no bullshit.

"I'm going to fill out a requisition order for you before I go off-duty," Shepard announced as she ate the last bite of her dinner and put her fork down on the table with a small clatter, "I assume you want the usual? Skivvies, two sets of casual blues, one formal uniform, two sets of regulation boots, two sets of armour... Anything else?"

"No ma'am."

Shepard teased a piece of tofu out from between her back teeth with her tongue, trying to ignore the re-emerging headache, courtesy of the day's earlier head-probe. "Good. You're five foot, ten inches, 150 pounds and a galactic size five. Am I correct?"

A curious frown touched Ashley's face. "That's right, ma'am. How did you know that?"

The Commander averted her gaze and fiddled with her fork awkwardly. A flippant answer about being an aficionado of the female form popped to mind, but she quickly quashed it. It would be inappropriate.

"Educated guess. I've ordered a lot of uniforms in my time."

"Well, thanks. I'd appreciate that, ma'am. All I've got is my gun, my armour and this spare uniform that Dr Chakwas found me in the med-bay…" she trailed off as she pulled at the fabric of her navy blue tee-shirt. "Everything else was on Eden Prime."

Scraping her chair backwards, Shepard gestured with her head for Ashley to follow. Taking one last slurp of her drink and mouthful of her stew, the soldier complied, getting to her aching feet and following the swift footed Commander. They walked through the mess hall and galley, towards the Executive Officer's cabin. Compressing the lock over-ride, Shepard gestured with one hand for Ashley to walk through first.

The room was simple. White walls and black furniture, all kept to a neat-freak standard of clean. The Normandy had only been recently deployed, so there hadn't been much time for Shepard to get comfortable, but even still, it was stark. The bed was made to military standards, there were no photos, no books, nothing personal at all. The desk in the middle took up most of the space, and the double bed was relegated to a corner, next to the small closet that Shepard had just dived her head into. Ashley eyed the bed off enviously, wondering how many more months or years it would be before she got to experience a bed bigger than those given to your average human child.

"Nice cabin," Ashley remarked, looking around. Even if it was completely devoid of personality, it was about ten times bigger than the personal space she'd be getting.

"Yeah," Shepard said absentmindedly, rifling through the built in drawers of her closet. "This is my first appointment as XO. I'll admit, it feels weird. I keep going to the dorm rooms and just standing there for a full ten seconds before I realise I don't actually have a bunk in there. After so long in the military… it just feels wrong that I don't belong in there anymore."

For a moment, the tone in Shepard's voice became sad, and Ashley suspected she may have just stumbled across the reason for Shepard sitting alone at mealtime. If she was honest with herself, she would never have sat with the Commander unless she'd been specifically asked to, preferring to dine with the other grunts. But Shepard had been the only person even willing to make eye contact with her. And maybe it would be a good idea to get on the good side of her CO straight off the bat.

"This should do it," Shepard announced, stepping back from the closet with an armful of clothing.

She did a quick scan of Ashley's body and pursed her lips to the side. "You're a little bit bigger than me," she said when her eyes trailed past Ashley's chest, "but these should get you through the next day."

She handed it out, one piece at a time. An unopened value packet of underwear, a sports bra with the tags still on it, and an N7 tank top. The underwear was the perfect size, much to Ashley's surprise given their different body shapes. The bra was a size too small but would be stretchable. Ashley couldn't help but take a sideways glance at the Commander, wrinkling her brow. The navy blue hides a lot… a deceptively ample bosom, for example.

"I can't accept this one," Ashley said, handing back the N7 top, "I haven't earned it."

Shepard's brow furrowed. "I have heaps of them. They're comfortable to sleep in," she said with a shrug.

Ashley hesitated for a moment. The appeal of a long, hot shower and a comfortable bed was overwhelming. There weren't many other options, and she didn't feel like sleeping half naked in a dorm with nine other crew-mates.

"Are you sure?" Ashley asked politely, bringing the tank under the crook of her arm with the underwear, wondering why she was seriously giving the Commander the option to deny her the sleeping gear, "I'll give it back as soon as soon as my rec order's come in."

"There's really no need, but if that'd make you feel more comfortable, then you can do that," Shepard said, giving the marine another small smile.

"Thank you, ma'am," Ashley replied, looking back down at the clothing. She knew she shouldn't push, but she just couldn't keep her mouth closed. "I gotta ask, what's with the brand new underwear? You some kind of hoarder?"

Shepard threw back head and laughed. Ashley was almost shocked by the suddenness of it. "You don't mince words, do you Chief?"

"No ma'am."

"I can respect that. Yes, I suppose my obsessive need for organisation could be described as hoarding. I… always like to know that I'll have a clean pair of clothes and a sturdy pair of shoes. An... old habit."

The Commander left the topic there, and Ashley dropped it. If Shepard had strange storage habits, it was her own damn business.

Shepard began striding towards the door, grabbing a datapad off her desk on the way. Ashley fell into step with her, being led back through the mess hall and to the crew quarters at the back of the ship. Shepard made a small sound of disapproval, tapping away furiously on the datapad again. The sound came out again, louder this time, followed by a whispered "damn".

"I'm sorry, Chief, we've got a full house," Shepard murmured. The absurdity nearly overwhelmed Ash for a moment. After the long, grueling, traumatic day she'd had, the idea that she had nowhere to sleep was almost enough to make her cry. "I've got Jenkins' cot available, and that's it. I'm sorry."

Ashley wasn't quite sure what to say. Being in the marines, you got used to not being picky with bunks. She had figured she'd get relegated to his slot, it wasn't like there was a great deal of spare room on a ship. As long as the kid hadn't actually died in the bed, Ash was easy.

Shepard stepped into the cramped room, and Ashley trailed behind. "This one," the Commander said pointing to the corner bottom bunk.

It had already been stripped and all his personal effects removed, as if he'd never been there to begin with. The Alliance had a way of doing that. Just when you thought you mattered, that you were special, they did something like this to remind you that you were just a number.

"Are you okay with this?" Shepard asked. It was a stupid question. The options were to sleep in the available bunk, or take up a spot on the floor. But Ashley appreciated the thought. She wondered what the Commander would've done if she'd said no. Offered to top'n'tail in her cabin for the rest of the tour? Ashley almost laughed at the idea of them having pillow fights and wearing matching flannelette pajamas to bed. She was way too overtired...

Instead, she steadied herself and shot off a sharp salute. "No problem, ma'am."

Shepard looked relieved, and returned the salute. "Good to have you on board, Chief. Muster is at 0500 hours, but given the day you've had, you have my permission to commence your duties at 0900 hours. Commander's authority."

"Thank you, ma'am, but 0500 will be fine," Ashley answered quickly. There was no way she was going to accept any sort of special treatment. She was a part of this crew now, and she was going to earn her place.

"Suit yourself, Chief. The offer still stands. We've put you in the armoury for the moment. A bit of a waste of your talents, but it will only be temporary. I'll make sure of that."

Ashley felt a wave of relief wash over her. Guns and armour. Two of her favourite things. She could do that. Maybe being on the Normandy wouldn't be so bad.

"Aye aye, ma'am."


	2. Day 3

_**A/N: Thank you very much for the lovely response to this. Lots of FemShepley love on here, as well as a plethora of amaze-balls people willing to drop a review. You're all rad, and I'm sorry I kept you waiting so long for the update.**_

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**Chapter 2**

**Day 3**

**"A pessimist is what an optimist calls a realist."**

Commander Shepard trudged ahead of her two-man escort, her mind in a spin. Nobody could've warned her about what this trip to the Citadel would have in store for her.

The Council not believing her hadn't really been that much of a surprise. Disappointing, but not surprising. That was good. Shepard could deal with disappointment, but she couldn't frigging stand surprises. She just... hated them. It messed with her sense of control, and if there was one thing Commander Shepard was known for, it was her ability to grasp a situation by the balls, and keep it tightly leashed.

In that sense, the Council's decision to tell her to piss off was right. Galactic diplomacy was all about probability, evidence, peacekeeping and the balance of power. Asking them to kick a Spectre out, a turian Spectre, no less, just on Shepard's say-so, had been a long shot. Given humanity's past with the turians, and Anderson's own personal grudge against Saren, she couldn't really blame them for viewing the weak circumstantial evidence as a cowardly ploy by the Alliance to settle an old score. She wouldn't have believed herself either, so it was silly to expect other people to.

Finding Tali, the quarian, in time to save her life and get the evidence they needed on Saren had been an absolute coup, and exactly what she needed after the shit-storm that had been Eden Prime. Losing a marine never felt good. Losing civilians felt even worse. But what had gone down on Eden Prime had been a categorical cluster-fuck without precedence. Bringing Saren's crimes to light had at least made her feel like some semblance of equality had been restored to the scales of justice - even though she had now been lumbered with the duty to bring that justice to fruition. It also made her feel like maybe, just _maybe_, her reign as XO of the Normandy wasn't completely cursed; as much as having a dead Corporal and a murdered Spectre on her rap-sheet might say otherwise.

Reflexively, she quickened her pace when she thought about starting the mission. She needed to get back aboard the Normandy. She had some very unusual new squad-mates awaiting her return. She hoped that the crew were being good to them... Or not total assholes, at least.

Shepard had always kept a fairly open mind when it came to aliens. She held the occasional bigoted stereotype in mind, it was human nature to do so. But she couldn't help it if every single slaver she'd killed happened to be a batarian, or every single stripper she'd tipped happened to be an asari, or every single asshole she'd met happened to be a turian. It was what it was, but she made a concerted effort not to let those experiences paint an entire race. Simply put - some aliens were nice, and some were pricks, just like humans. You had to take individuals based on their merits, not their species. After all, what would aliens think of humans if all they had to go on was a jerk-off like Donnell Udina?

She was aware that she was an anomaly within the Alliance. There were still so many deeply held hatreds after the First Contact War, and the ongoing skirmishes with the batarians hadn't helped ease galactic tensions. Most of the people currently in the Alliance had lost a family member or friend to one of the conflicts, and for some of them, that gave them all the fuel they needed to hold a grudge against every alien. There were definitely a few Terra Firma supporters in the navy, to say the least, but Commander Shepard was _not_ one of them.

The new team she had assembled seemed strong, and she had a good feeling about it. The krogan, Wrex, seemed like a bit of a loose cannon, but if she could figure out how to connect with him, she saw great potential. Tali seemed sweet, industrious and intelligent, and more importantly, in need of protection. And Garrus, the turian, seemed like he was noble, loyal to those who earned it, and not afraid to put a bullet between the eyes of a traitor. Rounding off the squad was Kaidan, the nice, powerful and respectful Lieutenant, who provided a perfect counter-balance to Ashley, who was as sharp with her tongue as she was with her gun. Not entirely a bad thing. A bit of lip never hurt anybody, and in the short amount of time Shepard had known the Chief, she quite enjoyed the woman's no-nonsense approach to conversation.

Anderson would keep the crew and aliens out of trouble while Shepard was ashore, but she was still keen to get her last errand done quickly so she could head back to nip any potential xenophobic issues in the bud, _Shepard-style_. After all, she was a Spectre now. She was technically above all of them, even Anderson, not that she'd ever push that point. The thought made her head spin slightly. _Spectre_. The first of her species to be granted that honour. Such a privilege, and a responsibility…

She turned back to Lieutenant Alenko and Gunnery-Chief Williams. "You two. Why don't you head back to the Presidium? Grab some lunch. I've gotta make a quick stop at the lower wards."

"Umm… ma'am?" Kaidan asked, his suspiciously manicured brows wrinkling in curiosity.

Shepard cracked her neck, a bad habit she had formed that always displayed itself whenever she was uncomfortable. And right now, feeling the semi-judgemental gaze of her subordinates on her, she felt very uneasy. She didn't want to explain herself, it was too personal. She could call the whole thing off, but she had no idea when she would get back to the Citadel again, and it would only take 15 minutes, tops.

"You heard me, Lieutenant," she said, keeping her tone quiet and professional, "I have business to attend to in the lower wards. Now be a gentleman and take Williams out for lunch. God knows she could use it after dealing with the standard of fare that's been getting served up on the ship." There was the ghost of a smile curling her lips at the end of the sentence, but it disappeared as quickly as it had shown itself.

Kaidan blushed slightly and Ashley rolled her eyes at him. If she had originally been doubting Shepard's leadership chops, she was definitely scratching her head at the fact that Alenko was currently three ranks above her. Nice was one thing, but you needed to be more than nice to make it in the Alliance, and he was just missing... _something_. That aggressive edge that tells your enemies that the gun pointing at them is not only loaded, but the person holding it won't hesitate to pull the trigger.

"Come on LT, the Commander gave us an order. So be a gentleman and buy me some damn lunch."

Standing his ground, his gaze remaining fixed on Shepard, he shook his head. "With all due respect, ma'am, I have to insist that the Chief and I come with you. The lower wards are dangerous, especially for a human."

Ashley internally chided herself. She should have thought of that. Letting the first human Spectre get robbed or killed on their watch would not bode well for either of them.

Shepard pursed her lips. Alenko was a Citadel newbie, spouting off ignorant crap based on what he'd read on the extranet. She'd survived in much tougher terrain than the goddamn Citadel, but still, it wouldn't kill her to bring them along. They might learn a thing or two, and they could both stand to lose those embarrassing slack-jawed gawks they'd been wearing ever since the Normandy had docked. This was a good chance to break them in.

"Suit yourselves," Shepard said with a shrug as she turned on her heel and led the way.

Ashley's eyes lit up as she followed the Commander's quick steps. The Citadel was awesome, and the lower you got, the better it was. The halls became narrower and the lush fauna displays from the Presidium gave way to neon lighting, as the trio made their way through the markets. This was much more to Ashley's liking. The Presidium was nice and all - if you liked pretty flowers, stuffy politicians, and a bunch of tourists - but this was where the real action was. The markets were alive with activity, and Ashley found her attention constantly getting dragged from stall to stall, seeing pretty much every gun mod she could ever want, all within reaching range - if she had a spare 50,000 credits lying around, that is.

Shepard set a brutal pace, and Ashley couldn't help but wonder exactly what had crawled up the Commander's ass. She'd just become famous, she should be ecstatic, but she seemed tense and distracted. Ashley had watched her during the ceremony, and she'd been still and silent as a statue. Hadn't even cracked a smile. She either couldn't care less that she'd just been written into the galaxy's history books, or she had the best frigging poker face that Ashley Williams had ever seen. Ash suspected it was the latter. Self-control seemed to be the Commander's jam. The only totally natural moment Ash had seen in three whole days was the accidental laugh that erupted the first night in the Executive Officer's cabin. Apart from that, the woman was wound tighter than a spring. Polite, friendly and nice, but in desperate need of a good screw.

Ashley dismissed the thought immediately. Everyone onboard the Normandy could probably deal with getting laid more frequently, herself included, but it wouldn't be happening. A decent amount of shore leave didn't seem to be on the cards while they were busy tracking down a murdering turian that was hell-bent on destroying the human race, and anything 'in-house' would be fraternisation. Ashley had gone there once or twice when she was younger, back when she was blissfully unaware of just how deep the black stain against the Williams name ran. But after two or three occasions of getting passed over for promotions that she had earned, it suddenly put sticking to the rules in a whole new perspective. Even if that particular one was an exercise in frustration at times.

Ripping Ashley out of her impure thoughts, Shepard came to a sudden stop out the front of a reasonably clean looking market stall. There was a mustard coloured batarian leaning at the counter, reading a data-mag, but all the signage was in another language, so Ashley had no idea what the store was selling, or why Shepard had come down here.

"Shepard," the batarian greeted with a quick nod as he straightened up and put his reading material to the side. "Another one?"

Ashley's lips twisted slightly. Shepard was on last name basis with a batarian? Ashley didn't have anything against them, per se, but she didn't go out of her way to befriend them, either. Then again, she probably wouldn't've hauled ass all over the Citadel to invite a krogan, a quarian and a turian aboard the most advanced vessel in the human fleet. Just thinking the words sounded like the start of a lame joke...

"Two, Gorl. It was a rough day," Shepard answered as she walked behind the counter of his stand and shook his hand.

Turning towards her entourage, Shepard shifted awkwardly, her eyes drifting back and forth between Ashley and Kaidan. "You two look around, see if anything takes your fancy. I'll be about ten minutes."

Ashley and Kaidan glanced at each other curiously as Shepard disappeared behind a privacy partition with the strange batarian.

"I don't like this," Ashley whispered to the Lieutenant as she rested her back against the counter, "What the hell is she doing back there?"

"No idea," Kaidan answered warily, leaning beside her and looking around at the crowd.

"One of us should go and check on her," Ashley said pointedly, staring the handsome marine down, "Like, the one of us who's ranked Lieutenant."

His eyes bulged slightly and he shook his head vigorously. "No way. What if this is some... girly thing she's getting done? I can't go back there."

"You think the Commander is getting a female checkup from a batarian in the lower wards of the Citadel?" Ashley asked, raising her eyebrows at him pointedly, "Puh-lease."

There was a low buzzing sound, and a groan of pain from behind the partition. The two marines mirrored each other's expression, their faces wrinkling in concern.

"He's hurting her," Ashley hissed, pushing off from the counter and taking a step towards the counter, "I'm checking it out. Can't just stay standing out here like a couple of dummies."

She was half hoping Kaidan would say something to stop her, but he didn't, and she was committed to the course. Passing the empty counter and pushing back the screen in one quick, thrusting movement, she revealed the Commander - minus the top half of her armour - hunched over on a bed in a small, sterile looking room. The buzzing stopped as Ashley entered and the batarian's head appeared from behind Shepard's back, where he was sitting with a set of magnifying glasses covering his four eyes, and a large omni-needle in his hand.

"Friend of yours, Shepard?" the batarian asked in his low baritone drawl, as he eyed Ashley off with annoyance.

Shepard looked up casually, the back of her tank top lifted up to expose the skin to the batarian as he tattooed it. "Something the matter, Chief?" she asked, wincing slightly as the batarian's needle continued its assault on her back.

"You're getting a tattoo?" Ashley asked, looking away from the hint of cleavage that was exposed in the Commander's current sitting position. This was one of the last things she'd considered ever walking in on Commander 'straight-laced' Shepard doing.

"Yes," Shepard answered with a look over her shoulder at the needle's progress.

Ashley waited for something. _Anything_. An elaboration, an anecdote, hey, maybe even a glimpse of what had been so damn important that Shepard had dragged them into the bowels of the Citadel. But Shepard just sat there, satisfied that 'yes' was answer enough, and Ashley quickly became aware that she had been staring for too long.

"Do you have any ink, Chief?" Shepard asked, inclining her head with interest.

"No ma'am," Ashley responded, folding her arms over her chest self consciously.

"D'you want one? Maybe something to commemorate your unit? My shout."

Ashley cocked her head and thought about it for a second. She'd always wanted a tattoo. Her Mom would freak, but as long as her sisters could be bribed into silence, Mary Williams would never need to know. Sarah would be a hard-sell, that kid had a big mouth, but Ashley could just remind her of the 'snitches wind up with stitches' rule, and that should shut her up. Then Ashley had a mental image of her father, tall and raven haired, spittle flying into his closely cropped beard as he lectured her on getting a 'tramp stamp', and the fleeting urge disappeared. It almost made her smile. He was five years underground, and yet there she was, still Daddy's girl. The thought made her wonder if Shepard's parents approved of her getting a back full of ink from a batarian in the crappiest part of the Citadel.

"Not today ma'am," Ashley answered quickly, stepping out from behind the privacy screen.

Six long strides was all it took for her to get back out to her original leaning position. Alenko eyed her off curiously, finally clearing his throat to speak.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well… what's the Commander doing back there?"

"If you wanna go and start some scuttlebutt about the Commander, be my guest, but you're sure as hell not gettin' the goss from me."

With a quick, professional nod, Kaidan dropped it. Ashley smirked to herself. Despite his decided lack of bad-assery, she liked Alenko. He was like a big, gentle puppy dog. With a killer set of abs…

"C'mon LT, let's check out these stalls. I can't afford any of it, but a girl can dream," Ashley said with a quick jerk of her head.

Kaidan fell into step with her, walking from stall to stall. He eventually meandered off in the direction of the biotic amps, and Ashley got intimately acquainted with one of the weapons stands. Ash was close to quite literally drooling over a particularly powerful sniper scope, when she became vaguely aware of the new presence standing behind her. Turning quickly, she found herself face to face with Commander Shepard, fully armoured again - thank God.

"Ready?" Shepard asked without waiting for a response, leading the way back to the staircase out of the market district.

Instead of trailing behind with Alenko, Ashley sped up her steps, bringing herself shoulder to shoulder with Shepard. The Commander didn't particularly notice her company, keeping her gaze trained on the tiled floor in front of her.

"What'd you get?" Ashley asked, rolling her head to the side to get a better view of the woman's face, "On your back, I mean."

"Just something Gorl's been working on for a while," Shepard answered with a quick shift of her shoulders.

"Gorl? That the batarian's name?"

"Yeah, that's right," Shepard responded with a brusque nod, the beginnings of a frown starting to work its way onto her forehead.

"You… let batarians tattoo you a lot?" Ashley asked, sensing the Commander's discomfort but not quite being able to drop the topic entirely.

Humanity had a chequered past with the batarians. Like… really chequered. A human giving a batarian access to their body was beyond stupid. Especially a human who had just become the first Spectre in their history. The Commander seemed intelligent and fairly savvy, but this was just an assassination waiting to happen.

"Gorl's the only artist I ever let work on me," came the reply. Shepard was getting uncomfortable with the questioning. She liked Williams, but they weren't BFF, and this topic wasn't something she was ready to discuss.

"I know it's none of my business, ma'am, but is that safe?"

Ashley felt a moment of regret the second the words were out of her mouth, before she internally quashed it. This was her Commander, and the Executive Officer of the ship she'd been assigned to. It would be irresponsible not to say something.

Shepard's pace slowed somewhat, and she looked the marine over. "Why wouldn't it be? Because you think tattoos are dangerous, or because the guy holding the needle was a batarian?"

Ashley clenched her jaw and decided not to respond, a feat in itself. She wanted a bit of time to formulate the best way to say this. She'd discussed her controversial opinions with people in the past, and it often led to... misunderstandings. There were usually two outcomes that came from said discussions. 1) She got called a xenophobe, or 2) She managed to accidentally tap into a bigotry-goldmine and get stuck listening to somebody's racist rant.

That wasn't what she wanted. She didn't want to be known as that 'crazy girl who hates aliens,' but she didn't want to be blind to the potential dangers of the galaxy either. Racism and patriotism were two very different animals in Ashley Williams' book, and she needed time to gather her thoughts before she tried to explain that to Shepard. Damn Tennyson for not writing a poem that covered galactic relations...

"Maybe we can talk later?" Ashley finally responded as they made their way to the elevator.

"Sounds good, Williams," Shepard said with a nod, before moving slightly closer and dropping her voice, "And do you think we could keep the tattoo thing between us? I don't really want the crew to know something that personal about me."

Ashley gave a small mock salute. "Marine's honour, ma'am. Your secret's safe with me."

Shepard smiled for the first time that day, the expression making her look completely different; younger, happier, prettier. "Thank you. Now we'd better speed it up. Captain Anderson's probably wondering where we are. Can't expect him to run a ship without his XO there to do all the paperwork."

"Sucks to be you," Ashley blurted out, earning her second small smile from Shepard that day, "Ma'am."


End file.
